The InterGalactic War
by SIMACE
Summary: Follow the perils of the Blue Galaxy Alliance and the Grox in this thrilling tale that will be told from both sides of the war. From high ranking generals, to mere soldiers, you'll hold your breath at every turn as you see what they have to offer! I am currently rewriting and will be adding to this tale, as I have redeticated myself to finishing this exciting story.
1. Prologue

The Intergalactic War.

Follow the perils of the Blue Galaxy Alliance and the Grox in this thrilling tale that will be told from both sides of the war. From high-ranking generals to mere soldiers who hold your breath at every turn as you see which are favorite characters have to offer.

Will Wright is the owner of Spore.

" For what seemed to be an eternity the Noir Galaxy was at the perilous power of the mighty Grox Empire. Their massive concentration towards the center of the galaxy had allowed them the control of vital resources as they cut off the entire galaxy from itself. Life form after life form: there might went unquestioned and it was for certain that no other single collection of species could amass a fleet to challenge them."

"As though fate would have it, in the outer part of the Von arm the Arkan Empire took to the stars. A seemingly benevolent race unaware of its future in the galaxy. Their home planet of Luna – red will become the capital of the first Galactic alliance planets. The diplomatic race seemed hell-bent on uniting every species in a common interest. They set out to explore the cosmos and in doing so cast the die of fate."

"In the year of 6816, month 42, Day 22 (6816, 42, 22). The Arka called the first meeting of Lennar (peace). At this meeting several thousand species were represented, spanning a vast amount of Galactic space, and were unified under the Blue Galaxy Alliance (B.G.A). Perhaps never in the history the galaxy had a more centralized opinion of thought came forward, there must be peace for species to survive. It was this thought that have brought the species together from all backgrounds. Scientology, religion, war mongering, greed, and personal beliefs had all been set aside for the purpose of survival."

"A moment of history, indeed. But, it would not be the first. In the following years these people was to make their way toward the core of the galaxy, only to find that it was surrounded by the simple minded, war mongering, people of the Grox. Of course to us, peace might've been an option, was most certainly an option, but to them it was not. For over a century diplomatic communication toward the Grox seemed impossible. They denied the acceptance of common border and threatened BGA shipping as well as civilians."

"For the first time in its history, the people of the BGA were alarmed and they were preparing for war. The year was 6972, the day was cloudy and Lest – red, as the Eighth Fleet, comprising 12,381 vessels, was in the process of being armed. 75,654 warships are reported war ready, when the alliance capital was shrouded by communication storm. Telecommunication lines with the Grox were overran with suggestions of peace. It will be nearly a millennium before the alliance would would learn why."

"Yet the leaders of the time, seized the opportunity. The terms were more than favorable: the Grox would no longer interfere with BGA shipping or citizens, the Grox border Providence of Vega would succeed to become an independent state, favorable for negotiation between the two empires, and the BGA and Grox would recognize a common border along the edge of the Von arm."

"Some say they got scared of us, some say they were biding their time, but here's what was really happening. We just discovered hyperspace technology, this was seen as a great plus. However, the Grox knew of warp space. The downfall to hyperspace technology is that it requires massive amounts of fuel, and common refills. It allowed vehicles to quickly travel half the length of the arm, and relay channels could relay messages the entire length of the arm. Assuming the communication lines were not damaged. There in lies the problem. At the time, we had new communication channels and Grox space was war empty, see how easily that can go awry? They were fighting a war on the exact opposite side of the galaxy in an arm we named the Pericles. The only reason they made peace with us was to keep from fighting a two front war."

"But we were not worried. Our leaders began reorganizing the economy, spreading the wealth, in bringing about prosperity. Grox foreign relations prompted the advent of the new capital at the star of Leo – red, 50 parsecs from the new border. As well as a deep space capital at the edge of the Von arm called Luna – red. This will go on for nearly a millennium, into the modern era."

"Our story begins in the year 7774. Chancellor Dannib, has made it focus of his campaign to begin a new era of cooperation with the Grox Empire. The beginnings of a fatal mistake. The Grox closed themselves off, into a state of isolationism, and foreign relations began to fall apart. Fearing the start of a war the Chancellor authorizes the use of spies in foreign territory. He does this in hopes that he would vainly learn of their plans of attack."


	2. Opening Moves

Opening Moves

Crackles spark, almost like static. A synthetic voice rings out across a channel that is to weak to make the transmission reach home. Yet to the soft pointed ears listening to the replay of the recording, it comes all too clear. "Revelation 21 reporting in... My report from frontier Charlie Echo is as follows... Red man has began research on big boy prospect. King Dan suspicions confirmed. The Red Man is in the final testing phase. Big Boy will be operational by the end of year. Break... Charlie Sierra... Military allocation of resources to the Vega confirmed. High alert. They have amassed... Wait. They are [laser blaster fire erupts in the background] Ahhhg!"

A smile fills the face of the appointed Admiral. "Spies... Treason... Sounds like grounds to break the peace treaty to me, does it not Captain?"

"That it does Admiral. But were we not going to break it anyway?" Laughter fills the Bridge of the Grox Fleet Flagship. A vessel nearly ten miles long, the battleship Gore, of the Ninth Grox Sector Battlegroup was traveling through warp space. Commanding a combined fleet numbering close to 5,000 large vessel's and a seemingly endless supply of bombers, fighters, and landing craft, was Admiral Cortes.

Cortes to the casual observer was just another Grox. However his military profile listed him as being courageous in the face of the enemy, keen and insightful, and several centimeters below average height. He lost his right leg during a battle some 400 years ago. Robotic-ally enhanced, it was a fate common to Grox warriors. It was also not the first wound he had received. During his first engagement he saved the lives of his fighter platoon, by taking a Curtain Pulse to the body... He was lucky to have survived, and lost his right eye in the process. Unlike other Grox, he chose not have it replaced. The simple linen cloth that covers it, is a constant reminder to those around him, of the caliber of the man they are dealing with.

"Time to target?"

"Five Minutes Admiral."

"Captain, what do you believe the prospects of our target include?" remarked Admiral Cortez to his long time friend Captain Jays. Captain Jays was also an old Grox, and had served with Cortes for close to three hundred years. The two had quite a remarkable history together both politically and militarily speaking.

"Under your combined order the experienced Ninth Fleet, will lead the Ninth Sector Battlegroup on an assault some fifty parsecs wide here. Mainly aimed at attacking supply and information gathering points, and to deal as much collateral damage as possible. The Eighth Fleet, on our left flank, and the Seventh, on our right, will attack in tight formations some fifteen parsecs wide and pincer. Crushing the pseudo capital Leo-Red. We should be able to capture an area 2,500,000 parsecs square in a matter of days [A Grox Day is equivalent to about ten Earth hours]. Depending on what Operation Freelance is, that you yourself sent the Tenth Fleet."

"The question did not relate to the plan, but to the target's, the moral of their people... Can we crush their spirit in the opening moves, or will they transgress into a bewildered state of resistance...?"

"Admiral, you ordered that the Ninth take no prisoner. Whether it be man, women, or child... They will feel insignificant compared to the losses this valorous unit will disperse." Captain Jays remarks.

"Sir, flight deck two is requesting launch prep orders."

"Are they listed as one of the first wave attack groups?" The Admiral inquires.

"Yes sir, first ones out."

"Inform all other groups to prep for launch, and tell flight deck two that they will be the last to leave, for such arrogance." Admiral Cortes again smiles. He is breathing deeply, and is calm. Cool and collected in the face of what no one believes is going to be the largest war the galaxy has ever seen.

Suddenly the blue hue that was visible around the ship disappears. Replaced by the utter blackness of space. Ahead of them, the blue orb of Klaton-4. From space the planet appeared solid blue, due to the thick atmosphere. But, once you have pierced that thick atmosphere, you arrive at a world covered in hues of red, blue, and purple. A large clear ocean wrapping around the planet's equator.

Many Arka were still asleep inside their cozy tubes. The planet always having a soft glow no matter what time of day, was unchanged. For a brief moment, all was calm. Except at Station 37. An Aerial Military Base, that was home to a small communication and supply fleet. Base Commander Frey was receiving up to the moment information of the situation.

"Sir, if the sensors have not malfunctioned, we have a whole Grox Battle-group on our front doorstep!"

"Can I get a confidence rating on that report?" Commander Frey asks while shuffling through hard copies of Grox Fleet Monitor Reports.

"Confidence is high, repeat confidence is high." A young Arka yells from some other part of the room.

"Scramble all Terrors, prepare for bombard! Go to red alert Colonel Yer. Get the Relays up and signal the Alliance." Commander Frey announces, "Welcome to hell ladies and gentleman..." A phrase he often muttered in his youth before going into battle. The days when he was not an old man.

Suddenly red lights flash out, and alarms sound. Confirming the orders. Papers fly through the air, voices are heard screaming, confirming flight orders, and the scent of sweat fills the room...

"Commander, may I have a moment?"

Colonel Yer, cut through the unfolding hell with such calm one might mistake him as a peaceful angel of death. His words were calm, collected, and cool. A presence that was greatly valued given the current circumstance... "Yes Colonel?" responded Commander Frey.

"What do you propose those Terrors do? They can't take on an entire Grox Battle-group, even if it is spread across an entire front."

"You are right, Colonel... But they can slow down the attacking bombers. They would not dare bring those capital ships into this shroud... Which means we have more time than most."

Colonel Yer, understood these words clearly. "But, once they know we have no secret weapons hidden under these clouds... Just twelve capitals, seventy frigates, a handful of cruisers, and several hundred fighters..."

Commander Frey sighed... "I know, it does seem rather hopeless."

"This planet is not a valuable resource to the Alliance... Why not retreat and conserve our resources for another fight?"

"Give up and survive... What of the people? The Grox will surely..."

"Sir, think of your men, your commanders. If this is a war, make it a long war. Make it worth it. Make it remembered..."

"Colonel, you are slightly crazy. But you are right... We can retreat using the Felix Nebula as cover, as dictated by article six. We could begin in an hour, and be over in four..."

"Lieutenant! Order the retreat!" Colonel Yer yelled out. The room feel mostly silent for a moment, then the scramble began anew.

Above the atmosphere fighter's slashed and exploded in waves, as the battle raged. The outnumbered defense force knowing that the fight was futile, still slowed the attackers as best they could. Buying every second to the retreat.

The Frigate line of the Grox Fleet had mostly moved forward to support their gutted fighter groups. That is when the order came from the bridge of the Gore, "All ships prepare for warp jump."

The bridge paused silent... Admiral Cortes held the entire fleet in his grasp and it was in awe. "Leave enough frigates to pick up the fighter line. The rest of the fleet..." He moved over to the holo-table, searching for the next target... "Latvia 5."

"Admiral... What?" said the Captain in utter disbelief. The offensive was theirs, the momentum was strong, they were on the edge of greatness.

"As you noticed we just started a war... An Inter-Galactic War... Against an enemy who's strength is the endearing... We must strike fast, move swiftly... Now to warp... I will be in my cabin." With that the Admiral turned and walked off the bridge. But, before he was completely out of earshot, they heard him call back, "The Tenth is on the way to Lest-Red..."

At Lest-Red his words were being proven true. Smoke and fire filled the sky, as the small dots of a billion escape craft flew onward. Laser fire and bombs lit up both sides of the world. The entire tenth fleet had concentrated on the sector.

The First Defensive Fleet had been caught completely off guard by the move. Already above sixty percent casualties, the number ever increasing while covering the rag-tag retreat. Admiral Kin was fighting frantically to defend his boarded Cruiser when the distress signal from Klaton-4 arrived across the emergency communication channel.

"Tell them we're!" He sidesteps an array of blaster fire, " a bit shot up right now!" He turns on his toes and hits Grox on the top of his head with the butt of his pistol. "Also call Luna-Red!" He drops his weapon. But, before it hits the ground he has another one in hand. Unloading the ammunition on the remaining Grox assailants on the bridge. "Tell them we're at code 26..." Pausing for a breath he then continues, "Half the arm has been cut off, we need to consolidate and plan with accurate information."

This unfathomable scenario played out over and over. The Grox simply over-ran the Alliance lines. Whole armies were annihilated on the ground, naval vessels caught in space dock, and civilians stuck in the cross fire...

Over and over, except on one planet, in a single system... The Red Skies of Juno I were considered too many to be an omen of the peoples fate. But, fate is a cruel mistress. As fate, or perhaps even chance would have it... The 64th Commando Corp was resupplying on the planet when the Grox attacked. Their leader, Major Payne, had skillfully organized a strong defense and had prevented the Grox from gaining a foothold... Juno I was the last holdout of Alliance forces...

Yet, at Luna-Red the Council knew not of the of the elite unit stuck behind enemy lines. They were stuck in a bitter debate over the state of the alliance. They argued if it was even possible for them to mount a resistance. If it was fathomable to succeed, or surrender, or if they would die...


	3. The Beginning of History

The Beginning of History Admiral Cortes strode back to his personal cabin, using the maze like corridors of the Gore that he knew so well. Cortes was old even for Grox, now in his late Eight Hundreds, Cortes was finally offered the job of his dreams, to become Prime Minister of all Grox. But, a long standing Grox condition says , before he can take the throne, he must accomplish something great. And what greater accomplishment, than to destroy the Alliance of Planets to their southern border.

Cortes thought of all those before him, he had lived through the lives of three different Prime Ministers. Dafim, was on the throne when the Grox and Blue Galaxy Alliance first met. A peaceful old Grox, he had already chosen his predecessor to the throne. Grand General Felet, was fighting a war with large insectoid race, that was on the Grox'es north border.

It is this war that would prolong an attack for so long. Felet's war would drain the Grox to a point of Civil War. After a mere one hundred years on the throne, he was assassinated. A young Grox who lead for the rebellion, stepped out of the darkness for the throne. At a mere two hundred twenty three, Prime Minister Feller was ruling to this day. It was at the Prime Minister's 1227th birthday when he stood and toasted Cortes to the throne.

Cortes knew that it was this process of war and peace that, over millions of years, allowed the Grox species to develop such a "Grand Empire". But, this thousand years of peace, had allowed the Grox to build their armed forces to be larger then ever before. And he intended to use them.

Cortes rounded the corner to his private compartment, and entered. Though some would wonder why he didn't have more security on board this warship, with the reason being that he hand picked his crew. Cortes trusted each of them with his life, from the cooks, to the Major's, all of them with his life.

Back on the Grox home world, Intel was a buzz. After launching spy planes deep into BGA territory, the Grox realized that they may had made fatal error. The BGA actually controlled more space area than the Grox, thus giving them more resources to draw upon. Groxian strategist theorized that this war may go on for around a hundred years. Astounded Intel tried hard to get a channel open to Cortes before the attack began. But, when they got no answer, they knew it was to late.

The Ninth Grox Battlegroup emerged from warp speed just inside the Grox boundaries, to a planet of lavender sky's, and two moons. As the dim blue light of warp speed faded away, it was replaced by the red light of laser blasts and flames. To the amazement of the Grox crew, an alien fleet roughly half their size was attacking their homeland.

As Cortes prepared to sleep in his sleep tube, a loud crash and screech, forced him out of bed. Suddenly Collision alarms were sounding and the alert came over the speaker, "General Quarters, man your battle stations! All staff to the bridge. Repeat, General Quarters to battle stations!" And with those words, Cortes still in dress robes, fled his cabin for the bridge.

Meanwhile, on Juno 1, a small backwoods depot planet, the 64th Commando Corps was still attempting to hold off a major Grox fleet. The Grox plan to occupy the planet had failed to be completed. When the attack began few of the Grox expected resistance, when the 64th began to repel them from the surface of the planet, Grox command was distraught.

Since the beginning of the attack, early that morning, two waves have been successfully repelled, by roughly ten thousand Arka, the only victory of the war so far.

The Orange sky's of Juno 1 were beginning to turn red as the sun sank low onto the horizon. Dotted among the red sky was the large grey silhouette of Grox ships. From the ground, fires burned like stars in the sky, as men cried out in pain and agony. The streets ran with blood, as the bombardments began again.

Near the capitol, several of the Arkan command are gathered around a small fire in the town square. Commanders of the 64th were discussing politics, strategy, and their options. The grassy green served as the command center during the extremely hot Juno summer day.

Few of the men jumped as another bombardment began across town, Grox fighters were flying overhead, and the stars were beginning to show through the night red sky. Slowly, out of the darkness, an Arka and a Grox approached the fire...

"Sir, I'm telling you, one third through tonights rotation they will launch a third wave!"

"Look, I know you were part of their military for some time, but, either way, we don't have much time. We must regroup, and reorganize."

Suddenly one of the men around the fire stands to attention and yells, "Commander on deck!" Several of the Arka jump to attention and salute.

One steps forward and begins a melancholy attempt to look important.

"Commander Andrew and Major Cortell, welcome to the command center."

Commander Andrew, never breaks stride, passing the man, and giving the order "At ease." Major Cortell, a Grox born immigrant, following suite, joins commander Andrew at a near by table, and begins to continue their previous conversation.

"Sir, I will break this information to you, that isn't a battlegroup up there."

"What do you mean Major?" Andrew snaps back in shock.

"They're not using Battlegroup formations. It's a fleet. On'y about half a battlegroups size, and judging by the frequent fly overs, running low on a supply of men. Which does make our job a bit easier." Cortell returns thoughtfully.

"Well, I guess that does aid to our situation. How many men do you think they have left Cortell? I mean, according to the reports we've took twelve of them to every one of us!" Andrew smirks out uselessly.

"The fly overs are key. They're 'econ missions, the more fly overs, 'he less men. The're looking for a hole to exploit. That 'ay, they can use what little resourses thy 'ave, effectively. My g'ess, about eighteen thousand sir." Cortell allows quite a bit of his accent to slip, causing his red skin to deepen even more with blush.

"We are spread across this whole damn planet, is there any other key area's of resistance to draw upon, any more resources? And by the way, what's the casualty count?" Andrew exclaims trying to grasp the validity of their current situation.

"Sir, out of sixteen thousand in the corps, only six thousand can carry a weapon. Ten thousand two hundred twenty eight dead, two thousand three hundred forty two wounded. But, I got that report an hour ago sir." Cortell adds solemnly.

"But, what about other parts of the resistance?" Andrew retorts. By now the sky had darkened, the six hours of light had passed. Balls of fire rained down from the Grox ships on the city, as the pink moon arose in the dark red sky.

The hue of the night cast a sense of fear among the small camps throughout the city.

"Fort Godall, and Terence Port are the only other cities with an established chain of command that we know of." Cortell confesses, "But, their may be more."

"Inform communications to recall all groups to the capitol. Our men are low on supplies, if we're gonna' fight, let's make it worth it." Andrew begins. Suddenly the bombardment stops, and all the men in the square look up to the Grox ships.

"One third through the rotation, sir." And with that Cortell turns on his heels and walks into the consuming darkness.

The space above Levia Five was etched with battle cruisers, corvettes, battleships, fighters, and bombers, all with the intent to destroy one and another. The entire Arkan line was in retreat, upon the sudden Grox advance. But, the Admiral of the Third Fleet, believe the best way to beat a charge, is with a charge.

Admiral Sintellie was also an old Arka, who had been in many more wars before. He was a master of tactics and strategy, and decided to play the wild card in the first days of the war. On board the deck of the Command Ship, 3SF Luna (Third Star Fleet) Admiral Sintellie was covering all aspects of the battle.

"What the hell? Reinforcements! Captain Smith, pull the ship around! Redeploy the fleet to formation B. And tell the Cruiser's Love and Lest to cross our bow!" Sintellie urges the commands threw the radio channels.

"Sir, we are out numbered this is a slaughter!" Captain Smith exclaims. "We must fall back!"

Blasts and bright light were clearly visible through the view ports of the command bridge, suddenly an on deck officer cries out, "The Decent was just rammed by one of those ships coming out of lightspeed!"

"Damage report on the Decent?" Captain Smith yells out.

"47 percent, they had just enough time to readjust course before the collision."

Suddenly, through the front view port of the bridge a flash of light and flames explode in front of them. "Come in Love, come in Love!" Admiral Sintellie yells out.

Suddenly from one of the side computer's an officer yells out "She was hit by an Ion Cannon sir! She's gone."

Looking up with a new light in his eyes, Sintellie remarks, " All ships, prepare to..." A long pause strafed the radio command channels. " Execute Plan E6." Sintellie then turns to Capitan Smith and retorts, "Why retreat when victory is so, near."

Back on the Gore, Admiral Cortes had just arrived on the bridge. Outside the view port he could see the battle raging. "What happened?" he yells out in disbelief.

"Whenever we came out of warp speed, we collided with a ship, sir!" an officer cries out.

"Where are we!?!" Cortes remarks, unsure about what was going on. His mind was racing, how could they be in a battle!

"Levia Five sir, as you ordered." another officer responds.

Finally gaining a sense of direction, all bet vague, Cortes begins to take in the field of battle. This fleet was half their size, an easy victory for his troops. Cortes knew it, he moved to the command table, and began to methodically plan his strategy.

Meanwhile, in dead space near Levia Five, another snake was laying in the grass. Admiral Sintellie's trump card. The Fifth Fleet was in idle just outside the range of enemy scanners. They would wait for Sintellie's order to enter the battle, then make a grand appearance.

The Fifth fleet was a unsung hero of wars past. The fleet had been paired along with the Third Fleet during the Arkan conquering of the arm. The fleet had been in countless battles, and had numerous victories under its belt. But, the Commander of this fleet was not experienced, and was not even Arkan. The Greep were a small, "cuddly" species that sided with Arkans long ago. Mixing shades of blue, green, and grey, they were an exquisite site to see.

The Commander was Greep, about Two and a half feet tall. His name, Jerry. Few understood the importance, Jerry had of his command. He had earned the respect of his men during the war games, for his cunning and unpredictable nature. And now his high pitched, squeaky voice rang over the loud speakers of his ship, the 5SF Lightening.

"Few of us, remember the hardships of wars past. Or rather, few of us choose to remember. We have been forced to engage an enemy twice our number. And it is because of those who choose to remember, that we will succeed. Because of the values they place before themselves we shall succeed. Because of the courage that they bestow to us, we shall succeed. And because of our ancestry , our heritage, and our fathers fathers before them, the sacrifices that they gave, we shall succeed. Troops, man your battle stations."

And as his men manned their battle stations with a renewed vigor, the war was beginning to look dim for the Arka. The grand council, had retreated from Lunared to Leored. And after mere hours of debate, the council had just one question left to answer; Surrender or fight?

The twelve elected members of the council began a long debate. The council argued back and forth for several parts of the Leored rotation. One Council member to another, a very personal fight. And as the council argued, they realized that every second, had come to matter at this point. The council was in dead lock, no decision could made. So, then the council made a historic move, to pass the decision to the senate.

The Senate consisted of two members from every species in the Arkan Empire. All were elected by their respective species. Kanians from Atleron, Opiums for Pomius, Asters from Jade Black, and many more countless species began yet another debate. Every species was there, even a Grox representative, who chose to remain neutral in the argument.

Some groups, like the Asterons, chose firmly in their belief to fight. While the peaceful Fortens chose to disband their arms and surrender. And the profitable Larion race, drifted back and forth from side to side, looking for the profit. And these were just a few of a countless number of species arguing this large and unclear topic.

And out of these arguments many questions arose; what would happen to them, if they did surrender? How long would they be able to fight? How large was the Grox Empire? Why us? How shall we fight them? Needless to say, many of these questions would remain unanswered.

Finally, tired of all the arguing, the Greep Senator Jalanoss took to the floor. He was shorter than most Greep, only about a foot and a half. And due to his old age, all of his fur was a white grey. Giving the aspect of a ghost. He was a firm believer in the heritage of his species. And his species had proven, even the small can conquer. And as he stepped onto the floor he began his historic speech.

"My fellow Aliancees, a great and horrific event has occurred. We have been invaded by an armada twice our strength, or more. And as we begin to relies the challenge that awaits before us, most will run in fear. Because their enemy is over powering. Each of us here, come from different star systems, with different pasts. But, none of us would be here, if it wasn't for some man, who battled the odds. If it weren't for some man, who lead a small band of brothers on a suicidal mission and over through some tyrannical king."

"So, now, why are we tempted to run instead of fight, to allow our great Alliance to be over thrown as though we never existed? My species is often looked down upon because of our size. We are small, and seen as weak. But, few remember that we, as our small and weak selves, conquered a planet. And then went on to conquer the space beyond."

"And each and every one of you know your history better than I. And you know that there is a man who raced the odds. Who took a chance. Who won the unwinable battle. Who beat the unbeatable foe. And know I am asking you all, to unite our history, and add to that great book another tale!"

Suddenly the room bellowed out. Cheers and hurrays filled the room, Jalanoss had tempted the beast, and he himself, had became victorious. His words would mark the begging of the Inter-Galactic War.

The room began to fill with the sounds of ecstatic men. And in a unified voice that could be heard for numerous blocks around the Leored senate hall, cheered "Fight, Fight, Fight."

The men on Juno 1 had fallen into a lapse of constant work. Two divisions were being moved to the capitol, wounded and dead bodies with them. It was about half way through the rotation, and the men knew an attack was near.


End file.
